#rewatchables

Arsene Who? Like most Arsenal fans in their early to mid-20s, I grew up supporting this club only knowing one manager: Arsène Wenger. At one point, I even thought the club was named after him. Arsène for Arsenal. Ha… get it. Watching that Henry, Bergkamp & Pires trio was the absolute peak of my fandom. Henry with the long knee-high socks. Pires with the slick, flowing locks. And Bergkamp: cool, classy, annoyingly good-looking. Patrick Vieira with his huge patch of Vicks VapoRub on his chest. Those memories are seared into my football brain forever.

But Arsenal was also known for something a lot of modern fans don’t always appreciate: stability.

While our neighbors down the road — cough Chelsea — were going full trigger-happy with managers (Ranieri, Grant, Scolari, Hiddink, Ancelotti... I’ve lost count), and Spurs were cycling through a revolving door of “is this guy Championship level?” managers, Arsenal had one man at the helm. One constant during the Prime Barclays era: Wenger.

One of the most successful and widely respected managers of his time, and an absolute singularity in English football. He was known for his eccentricity, his belief in principles, his regimentation, and his unwavering confidence in his methods — the "Wenger Way." And through that, he didn’t just coach. He revolutionised the game.

Dietary reform. Player scouting. Training programs. An emphasis on youth development. All of it. The blueprint. What even relegation-threatened clubs like Norwich and Sheffield United are doing now? That was all Wenger. All born from the mind of one visionary from Strasbourg.

Where did it go wrong? Wenger had immense belief in his own abilities. And really, who could fault him? He had the track record, the trophies, and the testimonials to back it up. The man himself once said, "We don't sign superstars, we make them."

So how did it all go so wrong for Arsenal’s talisman?

As the club moved into the Emirates era, player after player was sold — star after star — while youth players were promoted en masse, much to the frustration of both fans and players. And yet, somehow, Arsenal kept grinding out respectable league finishes. Despite the losses. Despite the chaos. Think RB Leipzig. Think Brighton. Think Sporting CP. Football factories that sell to survive. Only this wasn’t mid-table Portugal — this was Arsenal. On steroids. In the biggest league in the world. To this day, the words “positive net spend” still haunt our fanbase. We were watching a self-sustaining model unfold in real time — and some of us clung to the hope that the “Top 4 Trophy” actually meant something.

To be fair, I still think it was an achievement. To spend next to nothing and still deliver consistent results — Wenger was truly the goose that laid the golden eggs.

Look at who we haemorrhaged during those years of decline:

Van Persie to United for €30.7m

Ashley Cole to Chelsea for €7.4m

Vieira to Juventus for €20m

Henry to Barça for €24m

Adebayor and Kolo Touré — sold in the same window for €47.7m combined

Fabregas, Nasri, Clichy, Song, Oxlade-Chamberlain, Alexis Sánchez…

All top-level talents. All sold, often for less than their actual worth — to keep the stadium debts under control. Pittance!

And slowly, the magic faded.

Teams began to figure us out. Our style, once revolutionary, was no longer novel. The game evolved — Pep arrived, Klopp emerged, and a new tactical generation took over. Wenger, the visionary, suddenly looked... outdated. And yet, even through all that, we still won something. The cups came. The Community Shields came. We still played good football. We still filled the stadium. We were still the Arsenal.

But eventually, the fans had enough. The false promises from the board. Getting overtaken by traditional rivals. Watching ambition drain from a club built on it. Top 4 finishes and domestic cups — once considered the minimum — were no longer enough to satisfy a fanbase raised on league titles and European dreams.

Image: Wenger Out at the Emirates. Image credits: The Week. By all accounts, it simply wasn’t good enough anymore. The fans began organising protests. Boos echoed around the once-cheery Emirates. The fanbase was divided. The mood was heavy. It got so toxic that the club stopped showing ownership figures on the big screens, knowing full well that any glimpse would be met with a chorus of jeers.

And then, on April 20, 2018, it happened.

Wenger announced that the season would be his last, bringing a 22-year reign to an end. 1,235 games. 707 wins. 3 Premier League titles. A record 7 FA Cups. Countless Community Shields. Dozens of personal accolades. And of course: 1 Invincibles season. 26-12-0. Unmatched, untouchable, unbeaten.

Pre-Match Like most Gooners, I approached this game with melancholy. Yes, change was needed. The football had gone stale, the standards had slipped, and the club had fallen behind. But deep down, I was one of the many who didn’t really want this day to come. Not like this. Not ever, if I’m being honest.

The 2017/18 season had been a disaster by all metrics: Knocked out of the FA Cup in the third round by Nottingham Forest. Beaten comprehensively by Manchester City in the EFL Cup final 3-0 at Wembley in what felt like a training session. Out of the Europa League in the semifinals against Atletico Madrid, a tie we could’ve and maybe should’ve won.

And the league form? Equally dismal. Coming into this Huddersfield game, we had lost three of our last five: A meek performance at St. James’ Park, A painful defeat at Old Trafford and A shambolic display at Leicester, where we played much of the match a man down. We were limping toward the finish line, emotionally and physically drained.

Image: Wenger's Guard of Honour. Image credits: ESPN. Before the match, Wenger was welcomed with a guard of honour and a resounding reception from both home and away fans. The entire stadium stood to applaud the man who had defined an era of the Premier League. 22 minutes in, a full minute of applause rained down, in honour of his 22 years of service. Banners of “Merci Arsène” and “#OneArseneWenger” flew. The John Smith’s Stadium turned into a theatre of tribute. It felt like a testimonial. A curtain call. A heartfelt goodbye. The Match For the first time in 22 years, it wasn’t about tactics. It was about symbolism. The players felt it as well, and we played with that extra 10%. And in a poetic twist, it was fitting that Huddersfield, the former club of Arsenal’s other great visionary, Herbert Chapman — stood as our final opponents. We lined up the way we so often did in those days with a mix of past-their-prime veterans, unproven youngsters, and mid-table merchants trying their best.

The winning goal, scored in the 38th minute, was classic Wenger. A slick combination of one-touch passes between Lacazette and Mkhitaryan, before Ramsey slid in a low cross for Aubameyang to poke home. Auba’s ninth league goal, and most importantly Arsenal’s first away points in the league in 2018. Go figure.

Huddersfield, a side already safe from relegation, didn’t roll over. Tom Ince had a golden chance early, blazing over. Aaron Mooy clipped the bar. Laurent Depoitre nearly levelled at the death. But David Ospina, Wenger’s final pick between the sticks, was immense. Fittingly, it was Ospina that won the Man of the Match, a symbol of some much needed change.

When the final whistle blew, it felt like a tiny bit of justice had been served.

A small win. A clean sheet. A smile from the man himself.

Not enough to fix the season, but just barely enough to say goodbye. At the very least, we could not send off our Legend with an L in Huddersfield.

Image: League form. Image credits: Wikipedia.

Closing Thoughts Perhaps it was just me, but the club website gifted us a treasure trove of polished sarcasm and subtle snark. Here are a few of my favourite lines — all courtesy of www.arsenal.com:

So the players were able to send off the manager with a victory, ending a run of away day defeats that stretched back to the start of 2018. Arsenal finish sixth – the club's 59th ever top-six finish – and will go straight into the group stage of the Europa League again next season. The points tally of 63 was the lowest since 1995/96. Au revoir, Arsène, and thanks for the memories. 

Wenger didn’t need a 4–0 masterclass. He didn’t need fireworks or speeches. Just three points, one clean sheet, and a respectful farewell. A man who had carried the club on his back for over two decades. A man who built a new home, made superstars from scratch, and gave Arsenal a style, an identity, a soul. No one wanted his final note to be a bitter one. Not after all he had given. Not after all we had been through together.

This felt like breaking up with your high school sweetheart. The first girl you ever loved. The one who made you fall in love with football in the first place. You grew together, went through the highs and the heartbreaks — the Invincibles, the finals, the nights under the Emirates lights. She gave you everything. And in return, you gave your loyalty, your voice, your heart. You held on to the memories, hoping things would go back to how they once were. But they never did. And so, you part ways — not with anger, but with gratitude. Not because you stopped loving her, but because it was time to let go...

The away end sang, "There's only one Arsène Wenger." He bowed. We bowed back. He clapped. We clapped too.

In the end, he walked off quietly, down the Huddersfield tunnel in to obscurity, as he always did with his head held high. For most, it was an underwhelming end for a modern great of the game. For him, it was a game won, and a job well done.

Who Is Arshavin? Andrey Arshavin is no ordinary man. These days, he holds a UEFA Class A coaching license and spends his time between media duties, beer, and family — in other words, your typical Russian footballer.

Born on May 29, 1981, in what was then Leningrad, Soviet Union (now Saint Petersburg), Arshavin had anything but a smooth childhood. His father, Sergey, was a former amateur footballer with connections, but that legacy came with no guarantees. Arshavin survived a life-threatening accident as a child, saw his parents divorce at age 12, and spent nights sleeping on the floor of a cramped flat with his mother. His upbringing was marked by hardship and overbearing parenting.

Following in his father's footsteps and wishes, Arshavin chose to pursue football, joining the Smena football academy before being picked up by Zenit Saint Petersburg after impressing a local scout. But football wasn’t his only talent — he was also gifted in checkers, and notoriously rebellious. He was even expelled from school for disciplinary reasons.

For most kids of his age and education, being expelled meant one or two things: gangs or jail. But for Arshavin, football wasn’t just a dream — it was the only way out. It was make it, or die trying. The Start of Arshavin In 2000, Arshavin was first called up to Zenit Saint Petersburg’s senior squad — and the rest, as they say, is history. Domestic leagues, Russian Cups, Super Cups, UEFA Cup, UEFA Super Cup — if there was silverware to win, he collected it. But as dominant as he was, playing in Russia came with limitations. The lack of global media exposure meant his brilliance was often overlooked.

That changed in 2008.

Arshavin’s true breakthrough came on the European stage, first with Zenit’s UEFA Cup triumph, and then with his starring role at UEFA Euro 2008, where he led Russia to their first semi-final since the Soviet Union era — and still their only one to this day. He was electric, dazzling defences and orchestrating attacks. For his efforts, he was included in the Team of the Tournament and showered with accolades, including Eastern European Footballer of the Year and UEFA Team of the Year.

Most impressively, he finished 6th in the 2008 Ballon d'Or rankings — trailing behind five iconic names. The names you ask? Cristiano Ronaldo, Lionel Messi, Fernando Torres, Iker Casillas, and Xavi.

A testament to Arshavin’s immense talent was his versatility. He could play almost anywhere across the frontline: right midfield, attacking midfield, second striker, winger, even as an outside forward. No matter where he was deployed, one thing was guaranteed — a quality performance. By then, the world had started to take notice of this blonde Russian with a wavy mop of hair and the swagger of prime Messi at full flight. Newcastle came knocking. Tottenham —even Tottenham!!!— and Barcelona submitted bids. All were rejected. Zenit knew exactly what they had: a generational talent they weren’t letting go easily.

Welcome to Arsenal The Arshavin transfer saga was pure chaos. Arsenal had chased him all through the January 2009 window. With less than an hour left, Arsenal's bid was finally accepted. Personal terms were done, medical passed — but apparently, it was Arshavin himself who had to fork out a compensation fee to Zenit, stalling things. Then, a literal snowstorm hit England, delaying the Premier League’s registration process and forcing the deadline to be extended. The deal wasn’t made official until the following day, nearly 24 hours after the window had closed.

Wenger made the call, and Arsenal got their man — for a then club-record fee for one of England's most storied clubs. £15 million in 2009 might not sound like much today, but adjusted for inflation, that’s around £41 million, or close to €50 million in today’s market. For context, that would make Arshavin the third most expensive player ever to be sold from the Russian Premier League — and he was already 27. It was a bold move for a bold player.

Image: Andrey Arshavin outside Highbury House. Image credits: Arsenal Pics So there we have it. Arshavin was finally unveiled in the famous red and white strip of Arsenal. A new chapter began, with one of Europe’s most exciting talents now donning the cannon on his chest. Here. We. Go.

I’ve got to admit, being an football fan back then was something special. No Twitter ITKs, no Fabrizio Romano breaking news, no David Ornstein flooding your feed every minute. Just me and two friends, glued to the radio every day at 5 pm UK time (midnight for us), waiting for any hint of club news. I still remember James Dall, the Sky Sports reporter, announcing that we were about to get our man, with a medical imminent. Arshavin was an absolute cult hero for me, and one of my favourite players ever to wear the jersey. He was the face on the back of one of the few jerseys I owned: that iconic Fly Emirates #23 long-sleeved shirt.

Absolute limbs. Pre Match The 2008–09 season was in full swing. Arsenal were chasing their first title since the invincibles days. We arrived at Anfield just one point behind leaders Manchester United, with three games in hand. Liverpool, under Rafa Benítez, needed to win to keep title hopes afloat and keep pressure on United. This was a title race like no other. Arsène Wenger made some peculiar selections that night, perhaps in an attempt to outwit his counterpart in the Liverpool dugout. Lukasz Fabiański was handed the gloves. Andrey Arshavin, who had only featured off the bench since his arrival three months prior was finally given a start. Notably absent was teenage sensation Aaron Ramsey, Emmanuel Eboué, and Eduardo. Instead, Lord Bendtner led the line, only to be replaced later by the injury merchant himself: Abou Diaby, a man who seemingly spent more time on the treatment table than on the pitch. The Match Like most Liverpool–Arsenal clashes, this was a cagey affair between two tactical and formidable Big Six sides. The Liverpool XI walked out to the iconic You'll Never Walk Alone, and with Howard Webb’s whistle, the game began. Quietly, this Liverpool side was stacked with world-class quality featuring names like José “Pepe” Reina in goal, Jamie Carragher (yes, the same one now on CBS Sports), Yossi Benayoun, Xabi Alonso (now the head coach of Real Madrid), Dirk Kuyt, Javier Mascherano, and a Ballon d'Or top-three finisher in Fernando Torres. We were also notoriously poor at Anfield. Wenger’s Premier League record there was abysmal — just two wins throughout his entire tenure, even with the world-class sides he brought to Merseyside. Not even the iconic teams like the '98 Double winners or the Invincibles could break the curse. Between them, they managed just two wins at Anfield: in 2001 and 2003. First Half: Absolute Destruction Liverpool dominated the first half from start to finish.

Torres was electric, and he had multiple chances: one blocked after gliding past Silvestre, another saved by Fabiański after weaving through Sagna and Touré, and yet another denied by a desperate last-ditch tackle from Touré inside the box. A long-range dipper forced Fabiański into a fingertip save, and moments later, Torres tested him again after robbing Touré. Benayoun had Fabiański rushing off his line, only for Kuyt to waste the follow-up. Agger even had a header cleared off the line, and Benayoun himself had multiple efforts saved. Even Arbeloa, the Real Madrid reject himself had clear chances to score. It was wave after wave after wave of Liverpool pressure; a pummelling like no other.

This version of prime Fernando Torres was pure gravy. Untouchable. Unstoppable. Had everything a top striker needed. The pace, the skill, the power and the intelligence. You could see exactly why Spain swept through Europe during this period, and why Chelsea were willing to smash the transfer record for him. The quality was absolutely frightening.

Image: Andrey Arshavin's first goal, an assist by Fabregas. Image credits: Arena Football But football is a cruel sport, and Arsenal stunned Anfield with their first and only real chance of the half. In the 36th minute, Arshavin pounced on a sloppy Mascherano touch, calmly slotted home a cut back, and silenced the Kop end with his famous "shush" celebration. At this point, I was thinking to myself: Why would you do that, why would you wake up the crowd? Somehow, against the run of play, Arsenal walked into the dressing room with a 1–0 lead. Total daylight robbery. The backline along with Fabiański had well and truly deserved their wages that night. It was one of the most committed defensive efforts I’ve ever witnessed.

By this point, all signs pointed to more of the same in the second half: Liverpool piling on relentless pressure, Arsenal bunkered deep in their own final third, living off scraps and brief moments of respite. This was the infamous Anfield Factor in full effect, the kind of atmosphere that swallowed teams whole. The crowd was electric, roaring Liverpool forward. It was classic Anfield magic, and you could feel it pulsing through every pass, every tackle, every chant.

Second Half: Chaos, and Magic In the second half, Liverpool came out with a renewed urgency as if they'd had a rocket up their arse, likely thanks to the famous hairdryer treatment from Rafa Benítez who was never shy about demanding standards from his players. Liverpool roared back. Torres equalised in the 49th minute, heading home after a poor clearance from Sagna allowed Kuyt to whip in a pinpoint cross. Just seven minutes later, Benayoun capitalised on a shambolic clearance from Fabiański and our defence, squeezing the ball in at the far post. Just like that, we went from 1–0 up to 1–2 down, all in the space of eight minutes. Blink and you miss it.

At this point, Wenger knew he had to act. Do something... anything at all, to wrestle control back. That’s when he rolled the dice, bringing on Theo Walcott for midfielder Denilson to add some extra bite and directness on the wings.

And almost immediately, came one of Arshavin's best goals in a Gunner's shirt. A long goal kick from Fabiański somehow made its way to Arshavin at the edge of the box. Surrounded by three defenders, with no hesitation, he rifled a peach of a shot into the far corner, curling it past the outstretched arms of the 6’2” Pepe Reina. Absolute madness. You could see Benítez absolutely flaming on the touchline. How on earth do you let him get a shot off with half a dozen bodies swarming around him?

Image: Andrey Arshavin's second goal, surrounded by Liverpool defenders. Image credits: Arena Football What happened next was another moment of brilliance from the Russian maestro. Just three minutes after his second, he stamped in his hat trick—drilling a low shot under Reina, once again surrounded by a sea of defenders. He carved out the chance himself, using a clever skill move to release the ball out wide to Nasri, who whipped in the cross. “From Russia, with love,” declared Martin Tyler from the commentary box.

Image: Andrey Arshavin's third goal, surrounded by Liverpool defenders. Image credits: Arena Football

Credit where it’s due — Liverpool’s fighting spirit was relentless. Once again, it was Torres who haunted our backline, blasting a shot past the feeble palms of Fabianski to make it 3–3. And yes, that’s where the nickname “Flappy-hand-ski” came from. Through the chaos, Nicklas Bendtner bundled in a clearly offside goal (oh lord, I wouldn’t have it any other way), and Kieran Gibbs somehow headed another certain Torres goal off the line. Heroic stuff.

Image: Andrey Arshavin's fourth goal. Image credits: Arena Football

Arshavin then sealed his quadruple with a blistering counter-attack, calmly slotting the ball past Reina. He ran straight to the billboards, holding up the iconic four-finger salute, giving a shrug with a look of disbelief plastered across his face. Even he couldn’t quite believe what he had just done. “FOURRR…!” shouted the commentator.

But alas, Liverpool weren’t to be denied a result they truly deserved. After a few more crucial saves from Fabianski, Benayoun finally volleyed home following yet another chaotic sequence of errors from both sides in added time. The final whistle blew at 4–4. And thats the game. Eight goals, four inside 23 minutes. One of the wildest Premier League halves ever.

Post Match

Image: Match Statistics. Image credits: ESPN

As the dust settled, we looked back at the game and realized how lucky we were. We had four shots on target, and somehow scored four goals. Liverpool had 12 corners to our zero, and 10 more shots on target. Fabiański made 10 saves (should’ve been more if not for his poppadom hands), while José Reina could’ve been down at the shops for milk — he had almost nothing to do, aside from dealing with Arshavin’s onslaught.

We thoroughly, thoroughly deserved to lose this one.

And yet… somehow, we didn’t. We had no business leaving Anfield with anything, much less a point. Full credit to Liverpool, they were magnificent and deserved nothing less than a win. Arshavin’s heroic moment was not to be denied. His four-goal haul made him the first and only player (so far) to score four away goals at Anfield in Premier League history. He was also named Man of the Match practically by default. For Liverpool, striker Dirk Kuyt admitted after the game that they now needed a “miracle” to catch United, as dropping two points at home was a blow to their title bid.

Despite the draw, the game went down as an all time classic. In the Premier League 20 Seasons Awards, Liverpool 4–4 Arsenal ranked third best match, just behind the famous 4–3 United-City thriller.

Unfortunately, Arshavin’s career never quite hit the same heights after that unforgettable night. While he still managed to give us three solid seasons at Arsenal, the latter half of his stint was underwhelming, hampered by Wenger’s insistence on playing him out wide despite his quality and natural preference for a central role.

Still, that one game made me a ride-or-die fan. It etched Arshavin into Arsenal folklore forever. To this day, we simply refer to it as “the night at Anfield”, or the man who refused to accept a loss.

Closing Thoughts This match wasn’t just wild... it was f**ing* wild. I still remember watching it like it was yesterday. Writing this required digging up some starting lineups and facts, but every goal? Burned into my memory. It had everything: Arshavin announcing himself to the world, Liverpool proving why they never quit, and Wenger’s Arsenal clinging on with that never-say-die attitude. Sure, it was defensive chaos on both sides. I still cringe at some of the moments. But just when you think Arsenal have blown it, Arshavin reminds you: we are the mighty Arsenal, and anything is possible.

If you want the full Prime Barclays experience, this is the one to rewatch the full 90.

Unai Emery: The man before the man It was the summer of 2019. Arsenal had just come off a painful season-ending collapse, reaching the Europa League Final only to get dismantled by Chelsea in Baku. To make matters worse, North London rivals Spurs were 90 minutes away from being crowned Champions of Europe, losing narrowly to Liverpool after a controversial Sissoko handball that set the tone for the match. Arsenal fans were hurting, and the footballing world was shifting fast.

At the helm was a seasoned Spaniard: Unai Emery. His résumé spoke for itself. A serial winner in Europe. He had won everything with Paris Saint-Germain apart from the elusive Champions League, and before that, achieved the rare feat of a three-peat Europa League triumph with Sevilla, a run that effectively laid the foundation for Sevilla’s modern-day dominance in the competition. As of 2025, Unai Emery remains the only manager in history to achieve a Europa League three-peat (a feat that is unlikely to be repeated given recent format changes), and stands as the competition’s most successful manager, ahead of legendary names like Diego Simeone, José Mourinho, Rafa Benítez, and Giovanni Trapattoni.

Image: A young Unai Emery at UD Almeria. Image credits: These Football Times.

But Emery’s story ran deeper. Before the bright lights of European finals and Parisian pressure, Emery was the architect of one of Spain’s most underrated footballing fairy tales: Unión Deportiva Almería. A club that had languished in the fith to third tier of Spanish football throughout its history, Emery led them on a charge through the Segunda División and into La Liga, where they went toe-to-toe with giants like FC Barcelona and Real Madrid, even finishing as high as 8th.

He was, in a way, that generation’s Eddie Howe: a manager who made something out of nothing. A magician who turned water into wine.

Unai’s Almería side was sneakily good. He developed real talent — players who would go on to become top-level performers across Europe. The likes of Álvaro Negredo, who would later play for Manchester City; and Brazilian internationals Felipe Melo and Diego Alves, both of whom went on to make names for themselves at the highest level.

You get the point: Unai Emery was not a bum. He was highly qualified, in fact more than qualified to be Arsenal manager.

However, there was just something not quite right about Emery. He was a tactician, no doubt. A manager who thrived on adapting to the opposition, tweaking systems to suit the moment. But what Emery failed to realise was this: He was no longer at a small club punching above its weight, or at a club that could outspend the rest of the league combined. He was at Arsenal. A club still healing from the scars of parting with its most storied manager. A club with lofty ambitions, high standards, and an identity that runs deeper than just wins and losses.

At Arsenal, the demands are different. It’s not just about putting points on the board, it’s also about how you get them. Playing the Arsenal way matters. You can’t just grind out results against Bournemouth at home or at St. James' Park. You don't put out a teamsheet of back 3s or back 5s, hoping for a result. It’s not okay to be reactive, to get out-possessed by mid-table sides, or to enter every game like it's a tactical chess match.

The Arsenal manager should carry himself like one. These days, the kids call it "aura" — but I prefer the old-school term: charisma.

One of my biggest pet peeves with Unai was how he became a bit of a punchline. Rival fans mocked his "Gud Ebening," his heavy accent, his reliance on a translator, and his awkward press conferences, even if some of it was out of his control. But perception matters. Look at a peak Wenger, Ferguson, Mourinho, or even Ancelotti today — they all had that presence. Uncompromising. Ambitious. Confident, with a touch of ferocity. And their teams? All mirrored their personalities.

Image: A cheerful Unai Emery at Press Conference. Image credits: The Guardian.

Emery? He was cheerful. Humble. A bit too down-to-earth for the chaos and expectations that come with the Arsenal job. And maybe, just maybe, that played a part in why it never truly clicked. This is perhaps why he's thriving at Aston Villa now, leading them back to the Champions League for the first time since the 1982/83 season. After all, Unai Emery is not a bad coach. Far from it. Sometimes, it’s simply about finding the right fit. The right environment. Arsenal wasn’t that for him — and that’s okay.

Not every good manager is meant for every big club.

The Sacking, And the Hunt Unai’s 2019/20 campaign began with a series of nightmarish results. He was officially sacked on November 29, 2019, after a dismal run of just one win in ten matches — including seven straight games without a victory, Arsenal’s worst streak in nearly 27 years. The club was languishing in 8th place, eight points off the top four after just 13 Premier League games. It was the Eintracht Frankfurt loss that decided his fate.

This stretch of form is what I like to call the death roll — the kind of run that almost always spells the end for a manager. It’s as if the team can sense it too, like they know the boss’s time is up.

Image: Arsenal's death roll of results. Image credits: Wikipedia.

In stepped Freddie Ljungberg, the Arsenal Invincible turned interim manager as the club began its search for a permanent replacement. But the form didn’t improve. The slump continued, and it quickly became clear that this was more than just a managerial problem; the entire club was in free fall.

For the newer Arsenal fans out there, here’s a collated list of managers who were seriously considered or credibly linked to the Arsenal job, according to multiple reputable sources:

Mauricio Pochettino – Freshly sacked by Spurs at the time, but the rivalry made it complicated.

Massimiliano Allegri – Free agent after leaving Juventus, but reportedly hesitant due to language and mid-season transition.

Carlo Ancelotti – Became available after being sacked by Napoli eventually joined Everton.

Patrick Vieira – Arsenal legend, then coaching Nice in Ligue 1.

Nuno Espírito Santo – Doing well at Wolves, seen as a pragmatic option.

Brendan Rodgers – Seasoned Premier League manager at Celtic.

Image: Arteta. Image credits: Arsenal.com.

However, this list of managers just didn't wet the appetite. Instead of pulling a manager off the never ending merry go around of sackings and hirings, and despite the list of experienced names being floated around, Arsenal made a bold and unexpected choice: Mikel Arteta, then Manchester City’s assistant under Pep Guardiola and, let’s be clear, a first-time head coach. Sure, his name was floated back in 2018 after Wenger’s departure, but let’s be honest, no one seriously expected a 37-year-old rookie to take the reins at a traditional Big Four club.

A 37-year-old who, at first glance, could easily be mistaken for a current player, standing there holding up the Arsenal jersey. As of the 24/25 season, there are 5 players still plying their trade in the Premier League that are younger than Arteta when he first took the Arsenal job.

As a player? Sure. But a head coach of Arsenal Football Club? That took a second to process.

But that’s exactly what happened. On the 20th of December 2019, Mikel Arteta held up the shirt and with it, began the long, winding journey back to the top.

Pre Match There was quite a bit of buzz surrounding Arteta’s appointment, but not the good kind. The overwhelming sentiment was confusion, even frustration. Why would Arsenal, in the middle of their worst season in decades, turn to a rookie over a host of proven, seasoned managers?

His first game came during the traditional Boxing Day fixtures — a cornerstone of English football culture. And his early fixture list was brutal: Bournemouth, Chelsea, and Manchester United. Not exactly a gentle onboarding. But what worked in Arteta’s favour was that, as a first-time manager, there was an unspoken understanding from the fans: he wasn’t the cause of the problem, rather he was inheriting it. There was grace, patience, and a hope that maybe, just maybe, someone who understood both the Premier League and Guardiola’s and Wenger's teachings might be the right man to start cleaning up the mess.

Image: Arteta's first XI. Image credits: Arsenal Twitter.

And there we have it. Arteta’s first-ever starting eleven, posted by the official Arsenal account just an hour before kickoff. Some interesting observations stood out: A certain starboy named Bukayo Saka was starting at left-back. A recently crowned World Cup-winning goalkeeper, Emiliano Martínez, was on the bench, still very much in the shadow of Bernd Leno. And nestled somewhere in the matchday bench was a name that barely rang a bell at the time: Emile Smith Rowe.

It was an odd lineup, one that screamed "transition," but in hindsight, it was full of easter eggs about what was to come.

On a side note, while the 2019/20 season was undeniably horrendous on the pitch, I still own two kits from this era — and I regret nothing. That yellow-and-black striped throwback was, and still is, an absolute modern classic.

The Match

Image: Arteta's first game. Image credits: Forbes.

Bournemouth opened the scoring in the 35th minute through Dan Gosling, capitalizing on a turnover from Saka down Arsenal’s left flank. A slick move that exposed our frailties at full-back, and we were left chasing from the outset.

Before that, Arsenal had some half-chances: Lacazette, Özil, even Auba flicked about—but nothing clean enough to truly threaten. Gosling’s goal felt cheap, but it highlighted the unfinished business Arteta inherited.

The second half brought some life out of the team. Arsenal took over possession and slowly nudged Bournemouth out of the game. The equaliser arrived in the 63rd minute: a loose ball fell to Aubameyang in the box, and he squeezed it home at the near post for his 12th Premier League strike of the season.

From that point, it was mostly Arsenal—though “mostly” doesn’t mean much. Lacazette was sent clean through but blazed his finish wide. Aubameyang had a second sniff, forcing Ramsdale into a sharp save. Lacazette again found himself in space but couldn't make it count. The game finished with just six shots on target between both sides. In truth, it was a boring match—forgettable in isolation. But its value wasn’t in the ninety minutes; it was in what precipitated next.

Closing Thoughts

Image: Arteta's and Pep during COVID. Image credits: Sky Sports.

This match was a true sliding doors moment for Arsenal—one where things could have gone very differently. There was real talk of Mauricio Pochettino taking over, #ArtetaOut before he’d even managed a single game, and lingering doubts about appointing a rookie to a job of this magnitude. Arteta also undeniably benefitted from the COVID era, managing games without the pressure cooker of the Emirates crowd in full voice.

To borrow from Dr. Strange and the multiverse: this is probably one of the few universes where the Arteta appointment actually worked out. No, he hasn’t yet gotten over the line. And yes, there are fair questions about his mentality in pressure moments. But let’s not forget—he’s still a rookie. A rookie going toe-to-toe with serial winners who’ve been doing this for decades. That he’s even made it this far is nothing short of remarkable.

Now, it’s time to deliver.

You’ve rebuilt the club, reconnected the fanbase, and brought belief back to North London. No more moral victories. No more “we go again.”

Arteta, let’s win a major honour. VAMOS, and COYG.